


Cooking for the Soul (Made with Love)

by -catalyst (xo_thefirst)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, M/M, Slice of Life, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-30
Updated: 2020-12-30
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:08:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28429812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xo_thefirst/pseuds/-catalyst
Summary: Kiyoomi wakes to the scent of food cooking and Atsumu’s off-key singing.
Relationships: Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi
Comments: 3
Kudos: 235





	Cooking for the Soul (Made with Love)

Without even opening his eyes, Kiyoomi knows it’s too early. It doesn’t feel like he’s gotten a full night’s rest, but the scent of fried eggs disturbs him. It fills the air around him, following the scent of herbs and something distinctly _meat_ , and he groans when he hears the sound of something sizzling next.

The scent of the food drifts towards him—he can almost imagine it in his head—and he sighs when he realizes it’s the smell of onions cooking on a pan. It mixes in with whatever else is floating in the air and, in his half-asleep state, Kiyoomi thinks it all truly smells appetizing. It’s enough to make him turn over in bed, to try and find his boyfriend next to him, but all he hits are cold sheets. They’re cold with the comforter folded away from the pillows and it takes another slow minute for Kiyoomi to realize he’s glaring at the empty side of the bed. He looks to the bedroom doorway next to see that it’s cracked open and he groans as he lets his head drop back to the pillows.

“The fuck, ‘Tsumu,” he mutters into the fabric. He waits a minute, and another, before he groans and rolls out of bed. He can’t fall back asleep now and, with one glance to their closed curtains, it’s easy to tell it’s still dark outside.

He quickly washes up and brushes his teeth, glaring at himself when he catches his disheveled reflection in the mirror, and makes his way to the living room to see what his boyfriend is up to. He really shouldn’t be surprised to see a variety of small-plated dishes on their bar counter or to hear the off-key singing of his boyfriend coming from the kitchen. But, well, he is. He glances to the clock on the wall to see it’s barely six in the morning.

“And there’s that one,” Atsumu suddenly sings. When Kiyoomi looks back, he sees another plate being slid onto the counter. He still can’t see his boyfriend, but the singing and the sizzling of something else returns.

Kiyoomi sighs as he shuffles his way into the kitchen. His boyfriend’s back is turned but he isn’t near the stove, so he takes the opportunity to quickly latch himself onto his back. He buries his face in the crook of Atsumu’s neck and smiles when he feels him jump in surprise against him.

“Omi-kun, ya scared me!”

It’s easy to feel how Atsumu relaxes against his hold a second later, to feel how Atsumu brings a hand up to cover his own around his waist, and Kiyoomi makes sure to press his lips against his warm skin when he speaks, if only to feel the shiver that runs through Atsumu’s body from his words. “Your awful singing can wake the dead.”

“That’s so rude, Omi!” A slap to Kiyoomi’s hip. “I have a beautiful voice, y’know.”

“Oh, your singing has affected your hearing, too,” Kiyoomi murmurs. And, well, since it’s right there, he places a soft kiss on Atsumu’s neck, too. “Shame.”

Atsumu scoffs. “Y’weren’t complainin’ last night when I answered every request you asked for.” He turns to the stove and Kiyoomi shuffles with him. “My hearin’s obviously fine.”

Heat races down Kiyoomi’s spine at the fresh memories, but he doesn’t remove his face from Atsumu’s neck. He simply stays there, breathing in his fresh scent, and Kiyoomi hums when he can recognize his detergent mixed in with it. It makes him lift his head enough to actually look at the shirt his boyfriend is wearing. He sighs softly when he realizes Atsumu is wearing _his_ shirt, the one he’s worn several times before, enough to make the neckline loose and expose more of his shoulders than necessary.

He bites the patch of skin right under him.

“Food’s on the counter,” Atsumu idly says, not even flinching in the slightest. He waves a hand in the air next and Kiyoomi stares at it before looking down to see what he’s cooking. “Gonna keep bitin’ me?”

Kiyoomi’s considering it. He’s not biting hard enough to hurt, but it does help relieve the tension in his jaw that comes with grinding his teeth at night while sleeping. He moves his hands so he can slip the tips of his fingers underneath Atsumu’s shirt and into the top of his waistband. “No,” he eventually answers, finally letting go. He leans over Atsumu’s shoulder to look into the pot at the other side of the stove. “It looks like you’re making…” he trails off before looking over his shoulder to see a variety of western and Japanese dishes lining the counter. When he turns back, Atsumu is mixing vegetables into the soup and frying chicken. “How long have you been awake?”

“‘m not sure,” Atsumu mumbles. He gets lost in the act of stirring the food and Kiyoomi frowns as he reaches over to kiss his cheek, right in front of his ear. “Enough for the chicken to defrost.”

“‘Tsumu,” Kiyoomi calls, placing more kisses along his neck, waiting to hear Atsumu’s pleased sigh at his actions. “The kids already _love_ you. They love you more than me. Why are you worried about them coming over this mornin’?”

The way Atsumu deflates back against him has Kiyoomi chuckling as he leaves kisses wherever he can reach. “‘cause I need them to absolutely _adore_ me. What if they start hatin’ me and never want you to see me again?”

That’s amusing. “Since when did you care about what other people think about us?”

“Children are the best indicator for good people!”

Kiyoomi pauses, replays the words in his head, and groans as he drops his forehead to Atsumu’s shoulder. “Having you meet up with Sugawara-senpai has been an absolute nightmare,” he murmurs. He hears the click of the stove turning off before he feels Atsumu shift against him. He knocks his head into Atsumu’s shoulder in the process when his boyfriend turns in his arms but then he’s staring down at an equally amused Miya Atsumu a minute later.

“Suga-kun is always right when it comes to kids,” he sings. Kiyoomi winces at it, and then watches as Atsumu closes his eyes and puckers his lips. “Now, mornin’ kiss.”

It’s instinct at this point for Kiyoomi to grimace at him. “Brushed your teeth?”

“D’ya take me for a _heathen_?”

“I’m sure my cognitive skills have malfunctioned over the years,” Kiyoomi deadpans, only to laugh when Atsumu opens his eyes to glare at him. Like this, they’re so close together. They only need to lean towards each other that littlest bit to kiss and it’s easy to smell how minty Atsumu’s breath is from their toothpaste. “You look so comfy in my clothes,” spills out of his mouth before he can even _think_. He can tell it catches Atsumu off-guard, too.

“I always wear your clothes when I’m here.” Atsumu looks confused. He’s absolutely _endearing_. Kiyoomi can’t help but lean in to kiss the corner of his mouth. It makes Atsumu laugh. “You’re so _sappy_ , Omi-kun.”

“Liar,” Kiyoomi answers, smiling, as he gets to see and _feel_ Atsumu laugh right in front of him. “Never heard of it.”

When Atsumu calms, Kiyoomi reaches up with both hands to gently cradle his head. He hears Atsumu hum in response, but then he relaxes within seconds, smiling up at him and waiting. It really doesn’t take that much for Kiyoomi to lean in and kiss him, to feel Atsumu’s smile against his own lips. He doesn’t even realize he starts to smile when he feels Atsumu reach up to clench fingers into the sides of his shirt, keeping him close as he deepens the kiss.

Kiyoomi is sure time flies. It’s been flying ever since he discovered his feelings for this strange man and he hums when he pulls away minutes later. Atsumu’s lips are a bright pink, a soft red flush high on his cheeks, and, really, Kiyoomi will _force_ his niece and nephews to love this man so they can keep dating for as long as time itself.

“Are y’done, Omi?” Atsumu quietly asks. He opens his eyes and blinks a few times, trying to focus his vision on him, and Kiyoomi waits as Atsumu searches his eyes for something. “I need you to vote and tell me what I need to cook more for the kids.”

At that, Kiyoomi groans. His hands haven’t left Atsumu’s head yet, so he gently guides him forward so he can close his eyes and place his forehead against his. “I can’t keep doing this every time they come over, Atsumu.” He can’t even recall how many times he’s already done this for him. “They already _love_ you more than me. They don’t even see me when you’re in the same room as me.”

“As flattering as that is, I still need you to choose.”

“It’s _food_. It’s _your_ food. Everything you cook is delicious.”

“As flattering as that is,” Atsumu repeats, but louder this time. It’s enough for Kiyoomi to wince and finally take a step back from him, his arms falling back to his sides, as he watches Atsumu turn to bring the last dishes over to the counter. “Choose.”

Atsumu should really put on some proper shorts if he’s going to cook with oil that can splash. His thighs are a sight to behold, though.

“Omi-kun!”

Kiyoomi groans as he levels a glare with his boyfriend, dragging his gaze up to stare him in the eyes. “Don’t act like you didn’t like me appreciating your legs.” He smirks when he can clearly see the red flush return to Atsumu’s cheeks. “But I s’pose I can vote. Again.” He stifles a groan when he manages to quickly count how many dishes are on the counter. “I hate you.”

Atsumu beams a smile at him. “Love ya, too, Omi.”

Kiyoomi still can’t believe he sits there, next to him, with Atsumu turned to prop his legs on top of his thighs, and actually _chooses_ which dishes his niece and nephews will most likely love for breakfast.

**Author's Note:**

> ending the year with sakuatsu fluff? yes, please.


End file.
